


The Caged Bite

by AnimalCops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, after the war, everybody lives au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-27 18:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19797037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimalCops/pseuds/AnimalCops
Summary: Remus wants answers. Against better judgement, he goes to visit an old acquaintance in Azkaban to get them.





	1. The First Visit

The first time Remus visited Azkaban, he was surprised by the change. After Kingsley Shacklebolt was made Minister of Magic, he got rid of the dementors and sent aurors to guard the prisoners instead. The lack of bone chilling dementors was welcome after all of Sirius' stories. 

Sirius and Tonks both had warned him not to go; told him it was a stupid idea. Why would Remus want to go to Azkaban? What was the point? But Remus was determined and went anyway. 

One of the auror guards led him to the cell. The short blond woman gave him a funny look, arching a brow in silent question. Remus didn't respond to the look, his face drawn into a stern look. 

"Oooh, what’s this?" The deep voice rang through the air suddenly and Remus froze. 

The auror guard looked at Remus and spoke gently. "Would you like me to stay in case he does something?"

"No," Remus said back, "No, you're fine. They let me keep my wand." He didn't go into detail, not with this nameless auror. 

She looked him up and down; if she had any objections, she didn't speak them. She nodded and turned on her heel, leaving Remus alone in front of the Azkaban cell. 

When he looked at the cell he jumped; he certainly wasn’t expecting the man inside to be standing so close to the bars. The crazed amber eye and the dead blind eye stared at him, almost transfixed. 

“Fenrir.” Remus murmured in a sort of greeting. 

“Oh, they told me that I would be getting a visitor, but who knew I would also be getting such a sweet treat. How have you been, Little One?”

“I’m hardly little anymore.” The younger or the two replied. He was 38 when the war ended. He was nearing 40 now. He wondered for a moment how old Fenrir must be; close to his 70s right? Or maybe even his 80s? But he hardly looked a day over 50. 

The werewolf Alpha’s hair was still inky black except for a few grey strands here or there. Meanwhile Remus’ hair had lost the majority of its dirty blond and was mostly grey. Fenrir’s skin had hardly any wrinkles, though it did boast its fair share of scarring. Especially on the right side of his face along with the blind eye. He looked skinny but Remus chalked that up to being a high security prisoner that no one really wanted to deal with. 

“Little to me.” Fenrir purred, the rumble in his chest a chilling memory to Remus. 

“I suppose.” The younger man stiffened. His jaw clenched and he crossed his arms over his chest, a defensive move that he honed during his school days. 

“Why have you come to visit it me, Little One?” Fenrir’s head cocked to the side. It was such an animalistic movement; the action was only heightened by that amber eye scanning Remus up and down as though he were tracking prey. 

“To talk. Isn’t that why you always visited me?”

“Yes. Yes, to talk, Pup. Talk about what exactly?” Hands were suddenly gripping the bars of the cell and Fenrir was even closer. 

Remus took a cautious step away. He swallowed hard, not able to speak up. 

“Talk about _what_?”

Remus could feel himself start to shake, his hands trembling where they were tucked against his body. “To ask you some things.”

“You know, Pup, that really doesn’t clear anything up.” Fenrir purred, hands gripping the bars tighter. He leaned heavily against the metal bars of the cell, eyes never leaving the younger man. 

“I want to know why you did it.”

Fenrir leaned away from the bars of the cell, a harsh laugh bursting from him. “Oh, really now, Little One. Do you know just how many things that could apply to? Surely you don’t have an unlimited amount of time to visit me...” He smirked at Remus. “You best narrow it down.”

Remus's jaw tightened in irritation. His hissed through clenched teeth. "Why did you bite me?"

The caged werewolf was silent for a moment. He stared at Remus and it was as though his one working eye was boring into the other man. Almost suddenly, when the words sunk in, he tossed his head back with another sharp, bark-like, laugh. 

He met Remus' eyes, a chilling smirk curving his lips. "Why did I bite you?"

"Yes." 

"You're going to tell me… that your father never explained?" 

The younger werewolf furrowed his brows in confusion. He frowned. "What's my father have to do-?"

Fenrir purred, clearly pleased, cutting Remus off abruptly. "Hey, Pup, do tell me; where do you stay on the Fulls?"

"What?" Confusion laced the younger man's voice thickly. 

"The Fulls. Where do you spend them now?" He leaned forward, pressing himself against the bars of the cell. The amber eye was alight and a manic smile curved the werewolf's lips, parting them to show glistening fangs. 

"I… at the Ministry." Remus replied, still confused.

"Locked away," Fenrir purred, reaching a hand through the bars. His claw-like nails were able to just graze the skin of Remus' cheek before the younger man took a hasty step backwards. "Just. Like. Me." 

"For one night. Only on the Fulls." Remus replied, his tone tight and body tense. 

“Just like _me_.” Fenrir repeated. He pulled his hand back into the cell. “Locked away like a bad dog in the pound, Little One. It’s been so lonely. No one’s come to adopt me, you see.”

“Adop-?”

“When did you move out of that little shack of yours?” Fenrir asked abruptly. 

Remus was so confused. He was supposed to be the one asking questions and getting answers. He was supposed to be finding out the answers to the question that had haunted him all his life. _Why? Why me? Why did this happen to me?_ But Fenrir kept getting distracted; or he kept purposefully running the train onto another track. 

“My shack? You mean at Hogwarts?” He knew he shouldn’t be answering the questions. He was playing into whatever plan the older man was scheming. 

“Yes, yes. Your little house up at the castle.”

“I haven’t been in the shack to transform since I was in school, Fenrir.” Besides that night in Harry’s third year, but Remus quickly shook his head of that thought. 

“And now they lock you away. Do they treat you well, your beloved wizards?” Fenrir’s head cocked to the side in an animalistic curiosity. “Do they pamper you in your cold barren cell? Do they watch as you turn into a bloodthirsty monster that’s Hell-bent on ripping them apart?”

Remus swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. His mind went blank and all he could do was stand there as Fenrir kept talking. 

“Do they patch you up when you leave in the morning, Little One? What do they think of you as they mop up your spilt blood? Do you get it better in those cells than any other wolves because you’re a _war hero_?” The elder werewolf hissed, his sharp, claw-like nails scratched at the titanium bars of the cell. 

Remus backed away from the cell. The sharp screeching noise of claw against metal sent sharp pains jolting down his spine. He knew that the aurors made this cell just for Fenrir. If it were made like any normal one, the werewolf would be able to bend the bars and escape. 

Fenrir laughed harshly, gripping the bars so tightly that the impossibly strong metal seemed to indent slightly. "Where are you going, Little One? Where are you running off to now? Have to go back and see your little wizard masters? Lapdog that you are, hm? Maybe take a visit to see that father of yours. Ask _him_ why you were bitten. Have some quality _family time_ , yes?"

The younger man opened his mouth as if to say something but he choked on the words. He turned quickly on his heel and walked toward the door at the end of the long hallway. 

Ringing after him, Fenrir's harsh laugh echoed against stone walls.


	2. The Second Visit

He went to Azkaban a week later against his better judgement. He confided in Sirius about what had happened the first time. He refused to tell Tonks exactly what Fenrir had said. And he made Sirius promise not to tell her either. 

But he never went to see his father and ask the question. The fact that his father may have anything to do with his being a werewolf sent a shudder up his spine. He couldn't imagine the loving man to have been any part of it. 

Remus wasn't accompanied by an auror guard to the cell this time. He knew there were guards stationed by the door at the end of the hallway just in case. He took in a deep breath before walking to stand in front of Fenrir’s cell. 

In a blur of speed, Fenrir was before him, hands gripping the bars of the cell. That harsh rumbling of a purr rose from the elder werewolf’s chest. His head cocked to the side and a smirk curved his lips.

“You came back.” Fenrir purred. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” Remus replied tensely. 

“Question, question.” The elder werewolf said, a lilt in his deep voice. “What question?”

"Why did you bite me?" Remus asked.

Fenrir's lips twitched and he leaned against the bars. "Did you ask your father?"

"No."

"Why not, Little One?"

"I want to know why you bit me, Fenrir." The younger of the two replied, his tone sharp. He couldn't stand these games. "Who better to tell me than yourself?"

Fenrir laughed. He dug his fingernails into the metal of the bars and his grin widened when they left small pin prick indents. "Oh, but your father would be a much better storyteller on the subject, Remus."

"Why would you say that, Fenrir?" 

"If you really don't know," The werewolf purred, "I won't be the one to tell you. Old Lyall wouldn't much like that."

The younger man frowned.

Who was Fenrir to play these pointless games? Remus assumed he must be bored locked away like he was. There was very little in the cell that the werewolf had. Glancing past the older man, Remus noted the lumpy looking mattress on the floor that was spilling out its insides. There was what looked like a toilet on the other side of the cell that had a hand washing device built into the top of the tank. But that was really it. There was nothing else to the cramped room.

But Remus did note the window that was carved toward the ceiling of the room. It had several bars on it, rather than glass, and it was quite small. But the werewolf surely felt some kind of comfort in the window? Remus knew he would, if he were the one locked away. 

His eyes shifted back to the older man and he startled slightly when he realized that Fenrir had gotten impossibly closer to him. 

A dirty hand reached through the bars of the cell and took hold of Remus' chin, digging sharp claws into soft flesh. "Little One, why did you come back to me?"

Remus swallowed hard, his lips parted but nothing else than a soft, inhuman whimper left them.

Fenrir narrowed his eyes and his lip twitched in a low growl, showing off fangs. "Tell me." Claws dug sharper into skin. 

The younger man gasped, his own hand moving now to grip Fenrir's wrist. "I've already told you." His voice was soft, weak. Worried and anxious. "What more do you want me to say?"

"The truth. You could have gone to see your useless whelp of a father, but you didn't. Instead, you came crawling back to my cage." 

Remus watched as the amber eye widened, the manic glint that was there shifted to what looked like anger. The dead eye stayed half-lidded, and Remus was glad for that. The striking white of the blind eye sent shivers down his spine. 

Fenrir's head twitched, tilting to the side in a single second. "You came for something. _Tell me_.”

Dirty fingernails dug hard into Remus' face, making the younger man wince and try to pull back. But that grip wouldn't release him. He could feel hot rivulets of blood drip down from where Fenrir's claws broke his skin. He knew those places would scar. Werewolf injuries always scarred. But Remus hoped they were too small for people to notice. 

The elder man snarled loudly, repeating himself. "Tell. Me." 

And the grip on him grew even stronger. Sparks of pain burst in Remus' vision and one hand moved quickly to grab at his wand in his pocket. But he fumbled and it fell to the floor with an echoing clatter along the Azkaban hallway. 

"Hey!" A shout came from the end of the hallway suddenly. The loud shock of the wood hitting stone floor must have alerted the aurors that stood guard at the door. Suddenly footsteps were quickly making their way down to Fenrir's cell.

The caged werewolf bared his teeth with a low growl at the sound of a new voice. But he didn't back down. He gripped the younger man tighter, hissing through clenched teeth. "I know you've got some fucking stupid plan. If you wanted an answer to your question you would have just gone to see your father." 

Remus opened his mouth again, wanting to answer. But no words left him, nothing but a pitiful whimper of pain escaped his lips.

"Let go of him." The auror's voice said sternly. 

The man's wand was out, pointed at the werewolf in the cell. 

Fenrir turned his head slowly, the amber eye scanning the newcomer up and down. He snarled, lips pulled back to bare yellowing fangs. "Leave."

The auror's hand was shaking; Remus couldn't believe his eyes. Fenrir was behind bars. He was behind bars that were too strong for him to bed. The auror had nothing to be afraid of, Fenrir had his hands on Remus. If the older werewolf were even to try and lunge for the auror through the bars, he would have to drop Remus.

And Remus didn't see that happening.

"L- Let him go, I won't ask again." 

"No." Fenrir snapped, grinding his teeth in anger, claws pressing harder into Remus' flesh.

One.

Two.

Three heartbeats.

The wizard drew his wand back and then swished it forward. An arch of bright red light left the tip and easily slipped between metal bars to strike Fenrir in the face. 

The werewolf roared angrily, letting go of Remus and moving to cover the newly bleeding wound that lashed his jaw, staining unruly facial hair a sickening crimson. 

Another second ticked by, and it seemed to stretch a lifetime.

Then Fenrir was at the bars, snarling and snapping his jaws like a rabid animal. Obviously, he was displeased at being struck by the magic he hated. Remus stumbled back, but it wasn't him that the wolf was trying to get to; it was the auror. The man yelped in fear, taking a quick step back, moving out of Fenrir's range. And he swung his wand again, sending another lash of red at the werewolf. It struck his outstretched hand. 

Fenrir snarled, pain and rage rushing through his blood. He pulled his hand back, and Remus noted that it was dripping blood to the floor lazily. Fenrir clutched his hand to his chest, the dirty fabric of his prison garb slowly staining. 

The auror turned to Remus, wand still aimed at Fenrir. "What the fuck are you waiting for? Go!"

At the words, the caged werewolf slammed himself bodily against the cell wall. The bars rattled, bits of stone chipping from the force, falling from the ceiling. Remus' breath caught in his throat. 

He turned and darted down the hallway, just as two other aurors ran past him to help their coworker force the raging beast to calm.


	3. The Third Visit

The third time Remus went to Azkaban, it was the day after a full moon. Remus had his fair share of aches from the night before but he had taken his potions and could feel them slowly fading as he walked down the hallway of the high security area. He moved slower than normal, however, a wound on his leg was still healing.

When he got to Fenrir's cell he was surprised to see the lack of rabid wolf at the bars. 

"Fenrir?" Remus called to him, brow furrowed.

A shape moved in the back of the cell. Slowly, the form moved to its feet and came over to the bars. Remus could smell the blood on the stale air. 

The elder werewolf gripped the bars with one hand, the other wrapped firmly around his middle. The one working eye was dull and the blind eye was closed completely. He was covered in wounds and blood from the night before. The black hair was matted with crimson in places and there were bite wounds on the arm that held to the bar of the cell. The other arm was wrapped around what must have been a large gash of a wound, his skin was becoming stained as a result. 

Obviously no one had come to check on him. Or if they did, they ignored the state he was in.

Fenrir snarled halfheartedly. "Why do you keep coming here?"

Remus blinked, obviously a little shocked at the state of the older man. "What… What happened to you?"

"The fuck you think happened?" Fenrir snapped angrily. The titanium bar got crushed just a bit more under his strength. 

Remus moved closer to the bars, looking the elder man up and down. "You look… awful." 

"Well," The elder werewolf drawled, his speech rather lazy and slow. It was much different than his normal feral growl. “Thank you for that _lovely_ compliment, Pup. Now how about you skedaddle. Go ask your father your silly little question. And leave me _alone_.”

“I’ll get a guard. They should heal you.” 

Remus made to move away from the cell but he was stopped when Fenrir reached out and gripped his wrist. He swore he could feel his bones grinding under the aggressive grasp. Dirty claws dug into the fabric of Remus’ cloak. 

“Do not.” The werewolf snarled. His lips drew back to reveal sharp fangs. “Fucking idiot.”

Remus froze completely when he felt Fenrir grab him. He swallowed hard, trying to keep calm as his brain threw him into a spinning whirlwind of panic. 

"Why not? You're hurt-" 

"Of course I'm fucking hurt," Fenrir hissed through grit teeth. "It was the full wasn't it? You don't do too well locked up as a wolf do you?"

"I don't end up like _this_.”

"You are used to being caged like a lone, homeless mutt." The elder man snapped angrily. “ _I_ am used to running loose. I am used to freedom and the community of having a pack.” 

Remus pulled out of Fenrir’s grip. He frowned, “What happened to your pack?”

A chilling stillness fell over Fenrir’s features. 

The crazed look in his eye dulled and his extended arm fell back to his side. He leaned heavily against the bars of the cage. Remus was surprised at the defeated posture, as if the werewolf couldn't find his fight anymore.

“Likely… Well, they're likely dead.” He said after a long, silent, moment. “It’s easy to assume that your Ministry slaughtered them. Every last man, woman, and child that I had under my care.”

"Child?"

Fenrir snorted, "Yes. Children. We had many young ones in the pack; you see, most wizards toss their children to the wolves when they realize just what bit them. Your father is one of those odd ones that decided to keep you. It would have been much simpler to have thrown you away. Where _I_ could have collected you."

Remus backed away from the cell, the thought of the ministry killing innocent children suddenly coming to mind. “They wouldn’t kill children.” He said defiantly. 

“Wouldn’t they?” Fenrir snarled. “Werewolf pups simply grow into adult werewolves, Little One.” His head cocked to the side sharply. “If your Ministry kills them when they’re young, they won’t be a bother when they’re grown. We're a disease to your precious little wizards. They are on a mission to eradicate the plague that haunts them.”

The younger man shook his head. “No, I don’t believe you. I- I can’t.”

“You don’t believe me about what, Pup? That I had children under my care? Or that your Ministry _slaughtered_ them like _vermin_?”

“You wouldn’t have kids. You… You kill kids. That’s what they say about you. You turn kids, you kill them. You don’t- you don’t raise them.” 

Fenrir laughed; it was a hollow, cold, sound. “You think your government tells the truth about werewolves? About me?”

The elder werewolf suddenly gripped one of the bars of the cell tightly; he growled out a curse. He curled over as a fresh wave of pain shot through his system. His harsh laugh caused his muscles to spasm angrily, aggravating wounds. The arm wrapped around his stomach tightened and he clawed his flesh with his sharp fingernails. 

“Fenrir.” Remus’ voice broke through the haze of pain that ran through. 

He snarled and snapped his jaws in a very animal-like fashion. The older man gnashed his teeth, glaring at Remus. "What." His voice was tense.

The younger man pulled his wand from his pocket and frowned, "You're in pain. Let me heal it." 

"They won't like that." Fenrir hissed through grit teeth.

Remus was silent a moment, toying with the wand in his hand. "You know," He said softly, "I really don't care what they think right now."


End file.
